Wilder, Wealthy, and Wise

“I miss the days when we could discuss ideas.”

That was The Mrs.  Politics once was that way:  people could have ideas, discuss them, and it didn’t immediately turn into a name calling session with the “everyone I don’t like is a Nazi” used as the final measuring stick.

Now, to be clear, politics is a bloodsport on the GloboLeft, and it’s egged on by the GloboLeftElite.  Charlie Kirk was murdered, and there have been multiple attempts at Trump.  And to be a rank-and-file white person murdered on a subway?

Yeah, whatever.  That person is too disturbed to go to trial.

The TradRight hasn’t really responded in fashion, mainly because there has been the idea that if we only vote harder, it will all work out.  TradRight people have lives outside of their ideology, and would rather spend their days working at productive things and their nights with family.

The GloboLeft, however, are paid to be GloboLeftists.  Jobs at USAID® were daycare for GloboLeftists who did things like make videos about the mosquito nets they shipped to Africa that the Africans then used as fishing nets to depopulate entire ecosystems of fish.  But the thought was there!  Who cares about the outcomes?

The colleges are where GloboLeftists are paid to be GloboLeftists, and beyond that, to spread their indoctrination to the students passing through the institutions.  A few disciplines, mainly those that have to deal with objective reality (engineering, for instance) maintain a more-conservative cadre, but even there the Academy selects for Diversity.

Try to be a white Ph.D. looking for work.

But the GloboLeft is better organized because the GloboLeftElite has managed to pay them to be GloboLeft.  They took the Long March Through the Institutions and used it to fund their movement.  They also used the media, first selling us that overpopulation was the threat, and now that we have that in check, why, there will be a population crash if we don’t import infinity foreigners.

Took decades.  But that was the plan all along.  And now?  Something I talked about in 2018 has happened.

The Fall of Texas and the Coming One Party State

Remember Leonidas in the movie 300, when he asked the Athenians what their profession was, and he got back an accountant and a project manager (or whatever it was)?  What was the profession of the Spartans?

War.

That’s where we are today.  The TradRight has to create value in the world to make money, and hires based on merit.  The GloboLeft hires GloboLeftists so that its ideological army is funded.  The politicians go along with this, and if D.O.G.E. tries to shut it down?

Some GloboLeftElite federal judge will keep the money flowing, while they rule that TradRight words are violence, and GloboLeft violence isn’t punishable.

The money must flow.

Even in Europe, the GloboLeft foot soldiers get paid to be GloboLeft foot soldiers.  All the “refugees” coming across the Channel to England are paid to be there.  Their housing is paid, their food is provided, and they get pocket money.  They are paid to be there, so that when the GloboLeftElite want to drum up some unrest, they’ll do it.

Bracken thinks they’re armed, and that the GloboLeftElite will be upset when their pets burn the place down, but I think the GloboLeftElite doesn’t think that far ahead.  They’re like the Jewish lesbian women who want to import infinity Palestinians and are shocked when those same moslems don’t support their causes.

Doesn’t matter to the GloboLeftElite.  They’re off in gated communities, enjoying diverse cuisine when they want it, otherwise being safe in their bungalows when they don’t.

At some point, however, the mask has to come off, and the plan be visible for what it really is.  The voter fraud, the mass importation, the taking of power, and the retribution that will follow when the GloboLeftElite take all the power.

They will, unlike the Republicans, use it.  The Republicans had two years to fight election fraud, and did nothing.

But, again, the mask is off.

I’ve heard people I would never have expected to react this way politically become shocked at what they’re seeing now.  This is good.  I think the idea that we could vote ourselves back to freedom was the drug.  The TradRight was addicted to it.

I don’t see now how they can think that voting will work.  The Republic died sometime in the past, certainly no later than the 1960s.  Now we’re coming to grips with that.

I was in a fantastic mood the day after the election.  I was, in fact, celebrating.

Celebrating the exposure of our enemy.  Celebrating the death of the addiction to the idea that we could vote ourselves back to our past.

There may be a time in the future when we can peacefully exchange ideas again, but I fear that few, if any, alive now will live to see that day.

So, what is your profession?

I originally published this on December 9.  I wrote it for the events unfolding now.  You can find all of my songs here.  I will be reposting a few of them as events make them more relevant than when I wrote them.  Oddly, you can also find my stuff on Spotify.

Forgotten War
By John Wilder

For ten thousand years we held the wall
Blade in hand, backs to the sea
We learned their lies, their empty oaths
We buried them beneath the ash of history

We rose from blood to iron and stone
Built towers that scraped the face of God
Their spears became toys, their screams a lullaby
We laughed as their kingdoms turned to sod

Centuries rolled, the watch-fires dimmed
Our sons forgot the taste of fear
We laid the sword upon the shelf
And called the wolf a friend sincere

The gates swing wide, the smile is cold
Same eyes that burned our villages of old
Your blood, your name, your very tongue
Welcomes the blade that carved our young

We forgot how to hate
We forgot how to kill
We forgot the old mandate
Spare none, none, none upon the hill!

They never laid their hunger down
They only waited, patient, vile, and still
And now the wolf walks in our town
We’ll learn to make war again – we will!

From the grave I scream without a voice
I claw at dust that once was clay
My distant son shakes the serpent’s hand
And calls the jackal “brother” today

The peace we won became our chain
Mercy turned to slow suicide
The enemy kept the ancient flame
We let the fire in our marrow die

No trumpet sounds, no banner flies
Just quiet knives in the dead of night
Your child sleeps while the old oath dies
And the savage sharpens his appetite

We forgot how to hate
We forgot how to kill
We forgot the old mandate
Spare none, none, none upon the hill!

They never learned, they never changed
They only waited for our mercy to spill
Now the wolf is in the fold unchained
We’ll learn to make war again – we will!

Hear me, ancestors, hear me, ghosts
The blood remembers what the mind forgot
Steel still sings inside our bones
The wolf will learn what the lamb was not

We will remember how to hate
We will remember how to kill
We will rekindle the old mandate
Spare none, none!  None upon the hill!

The long peace ends, the lesson’s learned
The fire returns with a brighter glow
Your sons will bare their teeth and burn
And we will make war again –

Hell yes, we will make war again!

Forward, my sons – the wolf dies tonight!